


Shot Me Down

by darkeyedresolve



Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkeyedresolve/pseuds/darkeyedresolve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though they have parted ways, Cushing can’t say no to see Mark after the Texans drop a heart breaking loss to the Jets in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Me Down

_Brian groaned out and stretched his powerful body out on the bed, he finally began to relax as Mark pulled out of him. The thick muscles of his body, shiny from excursion, softened and uncoiled after so much pleasurable tension. He watched the Trojan’s star climb off the bed, which drew a confused look from his face. The linebacker sat up on the bed, with a slight wince from soreness, and brought up the obvious._

 _“Mark, what’s up?”_

 _“I got to meet somebody” Mark glanced over his shoulder as he pulled his underwear on._

 _“Who?” Cushing pulled his hair back, slick with sweat._

 _“Just this girl, appearances and all.” Sanchez gave one of those big grins, “But nothing will happen now, obviously.”_

 _“Right…” Cushing tightened his full lips as he dropped back on to his bed. He really hated those annoying girls, underage NFL chasers. Even more, Brian hated how Sanchez seemed to like them so much._

 _“Don’t pout; I’ll fuck ya again later.” He said it with a laugh as he left the bed room._

 _“Later.” Brian glanced off toward the window of their apartment, his thick hand running along the smooth skin of his shoulder._

 _Another typical fuck and run by one Mark Sanchez._

‘Why am I doing this?’

            Cushing was asking himself the question after he said yes to Mark’s invite back to his apartment. He was in a fog as it was from dealing with that 27-30 loss to the Jets and maybe that’s why he just nodded. Or it could have been that subtle brush of Mark’s cheek against his own, the way those lips grazed his ear as he leaned close to talk. Maybe it was the way the hand lightly touched along his arm and then down along his waist. Brian had a weakness when it came to Mark Sanchez; the man was his longtime friend and lover. Mark could play him like the piano; some kind of bittersweet sonnet.

            Cushing ran his hands through his short hair as the water ran over him. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him; the warm water actually cooled the fire in his tired muscles. The water moved down the ripples of his muscular figure, and found new trails along his body with each drop. He didn’t want to think about the present, how his sophomore season was in a total fucking slump and he didn’t want to think of his past either. New York City brought its own special memories back to him, especially the night of the draft. They were both so excited, both first round draft picks, both drunk.

            _Mark leaned over the top of Cushing, panting and thrusting into the rookie Texan linebacker from behind. The music was blaring loud in the limousine; the bottles of champagne were rolling empty on the floor. The expensive suits were in pieces on the seats, since it was hard to have sex in a three piece. The limo had only taken a few random drives around the bright and bold city before they had the driver park and go get a sandwich. Not that it mattered what he saw, they were both first round picks with a shit ton of money._

 _Mark sucked along Brian’s neck, while he pressed himself as deep as possible into his former teammate. He roamed his hands over the linebacker’s front, from the hard nipples upon his chest down to the leaking dick at his groin. Cushing was just in his dress shirt, unbuttoned, while Sanchez still had his pants loosely around his knees. The new Jets quarterback groaned loudly every time Brian squeezed on with his thick ass, he had perfected that technique over their senior season. Sanchez gave him an encouraging smack to keep going, he wasn’t going to slow down now._

 _“Jesus.” Cushing was awkwardly holding on to the seat and inside interior of the limo, his cross necklace bouncing every time he was bucked into. A few strands of his long brown hair had been shaken loose from the force of Mark’s thrusts but nothing he couldn’t handle. He had honestly never felt so good, drunk, drafted, and dumb on pleasure._

 _“Gonna make you remember this for a long time, Cush.” Mark smugly declared as he increased his pace and force. He stroked the other man’s cock with frantic pacing, just to keep in time with his hips._

 _“I just became an NFL player,” Brian winced as Sanchez really began to work,” I’m gonna remember tonight always.” The linebacker arched his back as he responded with a sudden milking of his inner muscles. He was too drunk to get pissed right now, or because he was brink of blowing._

 _“Always with me though” Mark gave a hard bite to his neck just to further make his point, his teeth gazing the skin. It was enough to send Cushing over the edge, and Sanchez to further claimed the linebacker as his own._

Cushing groaned softly as he looked down, his dick was now semi hard in the shower. The Texans star cursed himself, the fuck was wrong with him. Mark was now busy running around with teenaged heiresses around the Big Apple. They hadn’t really talked since Brian got busted with the PED suspension, not that any of it was news to the man who had lived with him for a year. Brian turned the water and shook his head for a moment, water splaying about, but he couldn’t shake off these ghosts.

‘Why am I doing this?’

Cushing thought it over in his head as he dressed; everyone else was in their own worlds too. This kind of loss will do that to you. The linebacker had thrown on an old USC t-shirt, seemed right, with a pair of distressed jeans that he filled out. Not like it mattered, Mark had seen him in everything; casual, dressed up, game day, naked. He stroked his fingers along the tiny cross under his shirt, but God wasn’t likely to answer him. Brian breathed out as he shut the locker and headed off to his past, in all of its curly dark hair glory.

The can ride was short, and the elevator ride seemed even shorter, before he realized it he was at Mark’s door. The question was still being repeated in his head, though now it was more of a warning. Cushing could still walk away, well maybe if this was someone else’s door, but the gravity was too great. He gave a knock at the door but it seemed like the door opened as soon as he touched it.

            “Brian.” Mark leaned against the doorway after he had opened it to greet Cushing. The dark curls were still damp from his post game shower, the Jets strength t-shirt stuck to his body from the moisture. He had that sexy swagger that broke Cushing down, and made it easy for Sanchez to get his way.

            “Hey.” The celebrated linebacker looked a little sheepish as he stood in the hallway. He might be bigger and stronger but Mark had the dominant presence between the two off the field. It didn’t help he was now on unfamiliar turf, Cushing was used to home field advantage when dealing with Sanchez. He stared back into those dark eyes with his own; he wanted to get some kind of tell about his former boyfriend’s intentions.

            “I wasn’t totally sure if you would show up.” Mark stepped away from the door, and beckoned the man in with his smile.

            “You know me better than that.” Cushing didn’t think twice about it as he walked on into the luxury, New York loft.

            “Well we’ve not really talked.” Sanchez watched Brian as he walked by; the muscular curves of his body were memorized in his head. Cushing had just thrown on a tee and jeans, but he didn’t much to stand out with that body.

            “So?” Brian was slightly annoyed with that remark, “Doesn’t mean I’ve changed any.” He felt that Mark had changed since being sucked into the bright lights of New York City. They managed to deal with L.A. but being an NFL starting quarterback took things to another level of fame. They were also separated by a few dozen states, wasn’t like they came home to one another like the old days.

            “Right,” Mark rolled his eyes as he shut the door and followed after Cushing into the living room, “Well, it’s definitely been weird not talking to you.” He figured Brian would be a little rough at first, but smoothing out this linebacker was something he was used too.

            “Yea,” Cushing gave a nod while he looked around the room, which didn’t look much like the place he had seen last year.

            Weird, things were definitely weird Brian thought. He had been close to Mark since coming to USC, lived with him, slept with him, and now he felt like a stranger. He could see pictures of Mark and the seventeen year old with money; guess he must really like her. Cushing was annoyed, deep down, that Mark was up to his old tricks. He didn’t trust girls, probably why his most steady relationships had been with Mark and Clay. Though each of their careers had taken them in different directions, to Houston, to New York City, and to Green Bay

            “She’s pretty.”  It was obvious that Brian didn’t really believe that with his pouting lips and narrowed eyes.

            “Yea, she’s a lot of fun.” Mark slid up beside the linebacker and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, “You would like her.”

            “Why?” Cushing turned to directly look at Sanchez’s face,” Cause she’s got some nice tits, probably still in her teens, and is a ditz?”

            “Well she has a trust fund…” Mark teased after a period of silence, and his teasing just frustrated his former teammate more.

            “Fuck you.” Brian hated it when Mark did that, use those smart ass comments on him. He shoved the hand off his shoulder and quickly began to move back to the door. “This was fucking dumb.”

            “Cush, come on.” Sanchez rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, which stunned Brian enough to keep him from walking any further. “Don’t be so sensitive.”

            “What the fuck?” Brian wasn’t sure what was going on, he felt like he was back at USC but just in the wrong apartment, or in the wrong time. He reached down and pulled Mark’s arms off his body,” You don’t make any sense.”

            “We don’t make any sense, Brian.” Mark dropped his hands away from the linebacker, “That’s the point, we just happen.”

            Maybe that was the answer to Cushing’s question, there was no answer. They had just been two horny, star chasing athletes that collided in southern California. A smile tinged at the sides of his mouth, and he couldn’t help the laugh from building inside of his gut. Mark looked at him with a confused expression on his face, he didn’t get the joke. Brian had been burdened for awhile with trying to figure out the Sanchez situation and there it was. It wasn’t world shaking or heart breaking, they just happened and they just didn’t anymore.

            “You alright?” The Jets quarterback finally asked when Cushing’s laughter died out.

            “Yea, I’m fine.” Cushing turned to face his former teammate, “Just been a stressful day.”

            “Definitely, that game took a lot out of all of us.” Mark put his winning grin back on as he reached out to put a hand around the linebacker’s neck. Cushing didn’t resist as he pulled into a kiss, he wasn’t confused anymore.

            ‘Just happens’

            The athletic pair moved to Sanchez bedroom after a few moments of deep kissing, they felt right back into a routine. Cushing down on his back underneath the leaner man, and effectively pinned by Sanchez. Brian felt the rough hands holding down his wrists as they kissed, the scruff of Mark’s facial hair rubbing against his skin. It wasn’t long before his shirt was pushed off his muscular torso, leaving him bared to the other man. Cushing moaned as Mark’s lips moved down his neck to the planes of his chest. He intertwined his fingers into the dark curls of hair as the quarterback sucked lightly on his skin, light reddish marks trailed after each touch. With a flick of his tongue, Sanchez teased one of his semi hard nipples. He bucked up off the bed at the sharp sensation; Mark only continued to assault his sensitive nub. Cushing panted and begged louder with each passing moment, the powerful defensive star always so easily brought to his knees.

            “Still want me?” Mark gave a final lick to the linebacker’s nipple before looking up at him, grinning while his hands worked to undo Cushing’s jeans.

            “Y-Yes…” Brian couldn’t deny it, it was just the way he was…they way they were. He stroked his hand and then tugged on Sanchez’s hair, “Don’t be a dick about it.”

            Sanchez chuckled lowly as he gave a sharp, sudden pull on the rest of Brian’s clothing. The bigger man replied in kind by shifting his strong hips, leaving his mostly smooth body totally naked. Roaming with his dark eyes, Mark took in the body had seen many nights before. Deva ju and yet the something new, just a feeling that linger in the air between them; he chose to ignore that in favor of getting off. Shedding his shirt, Mark positioned himself between those thick legs as his hands moved along the linebacker’s sides. They kissed, it stifled Cushing’s moans as Sanchez took his dick in hand and stroked. The kissing became messy and frantic while Cushing bucked his hips against the pumping hand, rougher against his skin than before.

            Brian was lost in a mixture of hazy pleasure, tight sensation, and heavy weariness. He had lost track of what was going on until he realized Mark’s tongue had been replaced with his fingers. He glanced down his rippling stomach to see the curly head of hair bobbing up and down on his shaft. Running his thick tongue in long strokes along the fingers, Cushing shut his eyes again. The luxury loft in the high rise faded away and was painted over with the familiar setting of their apartment in southern California. The bed more cramped and the sheets not as soft, but those things never really mattered. He groaned loudly as his fingers were pulled out of his mouth and slowly worked inside of him.

            “Mark!” The pain pressed inside of him first, and then the pleasure slow burned inside of him.

            “You know…” Sanchez leaned up and gave a lick along his ear, “You’ve always been the tightest.”

            “Romantic.” Cushing wanted to shoot back with something else but he could hardly form a sentence as those fingers opened him up.

            The quarterback gave a husky chuckle against his ear, before his teeth bit down on the earlobe. He gives a hard tug as he pushes in all the way to the hilt of his fingers; it’s only a slight distraction for Brian. The breath escapes his mouth and his body arches up, the muscles of his body flex up from his feet all the way to his neck. Sanchez slowly withdraws his digits away before settling himself firmly between the linebacker’s thighs. Cushing gives him a look, a face he made the first time Mark ever fucked him, that look of doubt and want. Mark just gave a small grin, the right corner of his mouth opening to show a glint of teeth, before he slides inside his former roommate.

            It wasn’t just a rush of pleasure and pain that filled Brian’s head, but also images of a former life. He could see them together in their old bed, at the USC locker room, at the Rose Bowl, in several different bedrooms at parties they had gotten smashed at. All of the winning, all of the glory; it had been the best backdrop to their relationship but now it was in the past. Cushing grabbed on to the expensive sheets and really squeezed his inner muscles, getting a cry out of Mark’s lips. Fearing a lapse in judgment, the linebacker became more aggressive and refused to just take it.

            Brian used his impressive strength to force Mark now to be underneath him, which drew a surprised but pleasurable expression on the other man’s face. With his body now riding at a brisk pace, Cushing wrapped his full lips around Sanchez’s mouth. He kissed, bites, and licked as their bodies moved together. He needed to get Mark out of his system for good, a final kiss good bye.  It almost became brutal at that point, Brian grinded his hips down and his thick ass bounced violently to his rhythm. Rolling off their skin, the sweat dropped to the sheets and was soaked up by the thousand plus count threads.  The loud, continuous smacking punctuated the groans and pants the athletes made, the crescendo just built on till climax.

            Cushing stretched himself upwards as his body grew exceptionally hot, it coursed through his veins. Everything seemed so clear, he had found his answer. He practically roared as he felt his cock spurting, the hot fluid shooting up along his stomach and chest. Brian could feel Mark loosing it in his body, his muscles milking the quarterback at a feverish pace. Grinning internally, Cushing came back down to the bed and down to earth. He heard Mark saying something against his ear but after the wear of a game, the wear of his heart, and the wear of his body; Brian was out.

            A buzzing noise was the next thing he heard, and so he opened his eyes to a bedroom he didn’t recognize at first. He muttered a curse to himself; his necklace had become twisted around his neck during sex, so he fumbled with it. Cushing realized he was still in Mark’s room, though Mark was no longer around. The linebacker saw the only evidence that Sanchez had been there a few moments ago; a note on the pillow. He didn’t even bother with reading it, just brushed it off.

            ‘Typical.’

            Stumbling out of the bed, Brian began to walk towards the noise. He winced slightly, realizing that he had just been fucked and played a harsh football game a few hours ago. The nude linebacker bent over to pull his cell from his tossed off jeans. Rubbing his eyes, it took him a moment to fumble it free from his pocket. Cushing stared at the hazy screen until he was able to focus, able to finally read the name glaring at him.

            “Clay?”

            Brian looked around, thinking for a moment that Mark was still around. He gripped the buzzing phone tighter as he felt the rush of familiar emotions: disappointment. The faux-hawked Texan plopped on the bed and answered the call. And with the sound of his former teammate’s voice, he knew it was the right decision.


End file.
